


i'm lost in your fire

by showingthroughtome



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, M/M, kind of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showingthroughtome/pseuds/showingthroughtome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn woke up in the middle of the night for the third time before he really started to worry. Other times, he just figured his boyfriend wasn't able to sleep, that maybe he slept too late the previous morning so his mind wasn't ready to shut off for a minimum of eight hours. The third time was different. Harry wasn't just lying awake, tossing and turning; instead he was sat up in bed, staring out of their bedroom window blankly.</p><p>based on the whole 'i know you'll burn your wings on hell's fire for me; in exchange, i'll try to stay away from the darkness of the night' thing :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm lost in your fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iammisscullen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/gifts).



> i hope you like this and this was what you were looking for! i had so much fun writing this! :)

The thing you don't know about Angels and Demons is that really, they have a choice. Early on in life, before they get too old, and on their twenty-second birthday, they have a choice. It's not an easy one and hardly ever simple. Or maybe it is, for 50% of that group - the Angels. The Demons, as you would assume, have it much harder. They can't just turn away from immortality like Angels can, they are haunted to follow their ancestor’s footsteps, to not stray from their family and give up the power.

It is a hard choice. But deciding to continue life as a mortal is possible. Choosing a life of love felt the human way, a life of happiness felt the human way – the best way – _is_ possible.

 

**_December 9th, 2015_ **

 

Zayn woke up in the middle of the night for the third time before he really started to worry. Other times, he just figured his boyfriend wasn't able to sleep, that maybe he slept too late the previous morning so his mind wasn't ready to shut off for a minimum of eight hours.

The third time was different. Harry wasn't just lying awake, tossing and turning; instead he was sat up in bed, staring out of their bedroom window blankly.

Zayn scooted closer to his boyfriend, the one he's had for three years and loved for every minute of it, the one he'd chose mortality for all over again if had to, and ran a knuckle up his bare back. “Haz, babe, ya’right?”

It was like a jolt of electricity ran through Harry's body at the touch, causing him to startle and nod his head up and down.

This was unusual behavior for Harry - to not smile a _yes_ and curl up to his boyfriend, never having enough flesh on flesh contact. It scared Zayn that Harry seemed different, but then he thought better of it. To shake the thought of his boyfriend's 22nd birthday slowly approaching. An entire 53 days away, he reminded himself. He would start really worrying after Christmas if these kinds of things kept happening, he decided.

“Babe.” Zayn stretched his arm to grab Harry's, getting him to turn around. When Harry did, he took one look at Zayn and it was like a fire extinguished behind his eyes, turning into the much preferred light that only Zayn could pull out.

“Sorry,” Harry blinked. “Couldn't sleep.” He reclined back in bed, closing the space he always hated to have between him and his love.

“S’alright. You know you can wake me up whenever, right?” Zayn knew Harry knew that - that Zayn would be there for him whenever he needed, especially in the upcoming months, when things got hard and life seemed dull. Harry nodded his head, already falling back to sleep once he found his nook in Zayn's neck.

Zayn couldn't get back to sleep quite as fast, mulling over the thoughts that would keep anyone awake, no matter how hard an angel like himself tried to push them away.

 

**_December 23rd, 2015_ **

 

“Zaynie!” Harry called cheerily, entering their apartment with take out in his hand.

Zayn quickly appeared in their “office” door, smiling at the sight of his favorite person rushing around their kitchen trying to get plates for dinner.

“Hey, babe.” Zayn grabbed Harry by the waist from behind and kissed his cheek. “Good day?”

“Yeah, really good day. The lectures weren't too bad, and Niall brought bagels to the museum for lunch.” Harry was still in school, finishing out his last year while simultaneously working at an art museum to help pay the bills, hoping that when he graduated with his degree in art history he'd move up in status.

“Mmm, bagels.” Zayn hummed, moving away from Harry so he could set the table and they could distribute the chow mein between the two of them.

“How was your day?” Harry finally remembered to ask right as they sat down. Because he had to do things like that - remember to be considerate, remember to pick up food for the boy who worked 10 hour days as a public defender.

Zayn never minded the remembering, as long as it came eventually.

“Not bad at all. Just read through a lot of cases and met with a client.” He smiled, spinning his fork to twist up the noodles.

Harry nodded and continued to listen as Zayn talked about funny things that happened to him throughout the day - the jokes his colleagues made and the prank some of the guys planned for their boss. Zayn mindlessly chattered to fill the silence and even then Harry looked engaged, making him feel a little bit warmer knowing Harry was present.

“So ummm,” Harry started as they stood hip to him, washing the dishes. Zayn turned his head, curious to see why Harry started and then stopped so quickly, finding him to look unsure. Harry inhaled and continued, “My mom called today.”

“Oh? She did?” Zayn returned to scrubbing the soy sauce from the dishes.

Harry’s parents only called when they wanted something as it wasn't in their nature to call for any other reason such as concern or love. Zayn knew this time wouldn't be anything different.

“Yeah. She wanted me to come visit tomorrow.” Harry dried the plate Zayn handed off. 

Zayn had to roll his eyes; of course Anne wanted to see Harry tomorrow, probably just to spite Zayn, to get under his skin knowing he wouldn't be able to return the favor.

“Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, Harry.”

“I know that.” Harry sighed, like he was the one irritated. He turned to his boyfriend, shutting off the faucet. “But she made a point that it could be one of the last times.”

“Could be?” A sick feeling rose from Zayn’s stomach to the back of his throat. He didn't feel insecure about many things, but his one main insecurity haunted him on a daily basis and only took a few simple words from Harry to be brought to life.

Zayn chose the life of immortality almost a year ago, turning away from his family of angels. And for that last year, the thought that Harry might stick with his family of three inconspicuous demons always ate at him. They had sworn to each other, made a promise that felt so unbreakable - when the time came for them to choose between the two worlds, they'd choose the one that would allow them to be together: humanity.

“You know what I mean, Zayn.” Harry reached for Zayn’s shoulder, grounding his thoughts back to the situation at hand instead of all the what ifs. Zayn wiped his hand on a dry towel, then grabbed the fabric of his boyfriend's shirt.

“So you're going to meet them?” He asked, not meeting Harry's eyes, staring at the collar bone protruding from his T shirt.

“Well, I've only got a month or so left and I want to see them.”

Zayn nodded.

“Listen, Zayn, I'm just going to go over for a quick dinner. Have a few last laughs with Gem and mom and Robin.” Harry bent at his knees, lowering his eyes so Zayn would have to look at him. “Don't be like this, baby.” Pouting his bottom lip so far it almost fell off, Harry finally got Zayn to lighten up a little.

“It just sucks. They don't want me around and now we can't be together the night before Christmas.” The entire idea of Harry leaving him to go see his parents made Zayn woozy, and not just for the reasons he stated. If they got Harry alone and then fucked with his head, ruined all the progress they had made together, Zayn would never be able to forgive himself for allowing that to occur.

“We will, though.” Harry explained, almost laughing. “And we will be together on Christmas Day and the day after that. And the day after that. And all of the days for the rest of our lives.”

Zayn shrugged, pouting too. “They could at least invite me over.”

“That'd be so enjoyable, wouldn't it?” Harry placed one hand on his hip, wide eyed at the insane suggestion, smirking what some would call a devilish grin - but not Zayn of course. “How many times did your parents invite me over?”

Zayn shook his head, and then couldn't resist Harry's dimpled cheeks any longer, planting just one kiss there before barely murmuring the words, “You're right.”

“I normally am.” Harry laughed heartily. It was a sound Zayn had memorized over the last three years, a sound he would continue to memorize for the rest of his life if the universe would just give him the chance.

“Sure.” Zayn spoke, but then shook his head left to right. “I wish things could be different.”

“So do I.” Harry rubbed his hand warmly on Zayn's shoulder before moving to cup his face. “But we've got each other to make this all worth it, right?”

“Right.” Zayn affirmed, slotting his lips with Harry's, kissing desperately so they both remembered why they were giving - or in Zayn's case gave - up their family.

 

**_January 14th, 2013_ **

 

Zayn Malik had just turned twenty years old when Harry Styles walked into his parents’ shop for the very first time.

It was a place clearly aimed at a certain kind of person. Someone who was open to religion or spirituality, who loved reading the words of every way of life – Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism, Christianity, and the Maliks’ personal belief, Islam. They didn’t push any certain book, or any words for any certain god. That wasn’t their job. They were there to be of help for people in their time of need. They were there to provide a spot for people to come and seek their own peace.

Zayn only worked there because none of sisters really wanted to, and he was going to college so when he got his measly paycheck, he could repay his parents for tuition and the cost of living before they even had to ask - which they never would. The Malik’s may have only owned one little shop, but money wasn’t an issue, and even if it was, they’d give the shirts off their backs to any passerby let alone their own son.

It must’ve been a Saturday when Harry stumbled through the door with his long, awkward, teenage legs and his floppy curls and scowling face, because it was early and Zayn was on shift. That was only the case on a Saturday - he had school in the mornings during the week and they were closed on Sunday's.

The soft ring of the bell over the shop door didn’t do much to stir the exhausted, night owl Zayn except raise his eyes to find the dark figure already halfway down an aisle. From where he sat behind the register, he could see most of the shop, almost every aisle. He couldn’t really make out the customer at first, just the outline of his body through his floor length pea coat. He stopped suddenly at what Zayn knew to be the _Occult_ section and crouched down, examining the books.

Zayn was going to look away, he was going to get back to his reading on the Beat generation, but from that angle he could see the side of the man’s face and how beautiful it was. He had this perfect profile, one where his edges looked soft and sharp at the same time. And his lips pouted out from his face, not so much to be ridiculous but to show how plush they must have always been. Zayn couldn’t see his eyes well enough to tell the color of his irises, and he wasn’t close enough to nail the color of his lips either. He knew though, that when he did, they’d be just as perfect as all the other things he could see.

Instant infatuation was never something he experienced before. He never caught sight of someone and felt so connected, so warm all over, so tingly in every extremity. And he was certain that when the man found something to purchase, and opened his mouth to speak, all Zayn would be able to do was nod and smile along. _If_ he did actually find something. God, Zayn hoped he would.

Zayn eventually had to turn away after staring for so long, scared that he’d feel his eyes, get creeped out, and leave. So instead, he forced himself to stare at his Jack Kerouac and pretend to read. In reality, he kept scanning the same line over and over again – not taking in the words or getting the meaning. For all he tried, he couldn’t focus.

Somehow, in all that effort, he tuned out the rest of the room, so he jumped when he heard a book snap down on the counter in front of him and a slow, deep voice say, “Hello.”

Zayn let his eyes land on the cover of the book first, for just a moment, before slowly scanning the torso of the figure in front of him until he got to his eyes. And they were green, a burning kind of green he’d never really known before – both light and dark at the same time, almost like the dichotomy were battling for control.

“Hi.” Zayn managed with a chest full of fluttering, a thumping heartbeat. “You ready to checkout?”

Zayn was hoping he fixed his voice as to not let on how affected he was just by the presence of the man and how hard he was trying to keep his eyes away from straying to those rosy, bitten lips.

“Y-yeah.” The man nodded, tapping his hand on his copy of some anthology. The way he stumbled over his word, the way he stared at something on Zayn's face, the way he seemed just as frazzled, completely took Zayn by surprise.

Zayn, using only half of his attention, ran the book under the scanner, bagged it, and spoke the price. The man was quick to hand him the appropriate amount, barely looking away himself, grabbing the bag and turning away to exit.

Zayn thought that was going to be it. He had seen the most beautiful person, stared at him and hardly spoke, and that would be all he ever got. On the contrary, right as the man got to the door, he turned around and made his way back to the counter. Zayn could only sit there, his jaw clenching in excitement.

“Actually-” the man shook his head, “I’m Harry.” He spoke with a new found confidence, smirking in a way that had Zayn thinking maybe he was aware of just how charming the way he carried himself was.

“Yeah?” Zayn raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief - of course someone so visually striking would have a run of the mill name. Harry nodded enthusiastically in return, adjusting a silver chain with an embroidered _H_ printed on a simple circle, only pulling Zayn’s focus from Harry's eyes to his exposed chest, two seemingly new tattooed birds flying towards the piece of jewelry.

“Yours?” Harry wondered aloud when Zayn didn't offer anything more.

“Zayn.”

“Zayn?” Harry tested the name on his lips, letting it roll off his tongue just as slow as the few other words he had spoken. “It’s a good name.”

There was something about Harry - so chill and cool and speaking like his words were easy to come by, but there was another layer showing no matter how hard he covered. It was almost like nerves, for what reason, Zayn couldn't tell.

“I’m happy with it.” Zayn glanced away, searching the shop aimlessly as he got up the confidence to say what he wanted. “Harry isn’t the worst.”

It wasn't exactly how he wanted to say he had never heard such a common name sound so exciting - how he had only known Harry’s name close to a minute and Zayn had already replayed it in his head too many times.

Still, it got a small laugh from the man. “Wow. Thanks. That's so sweet.”

That sound alone pulled out a whole new range of infatuation Zayn wouldn't be able to deny. It wasn't a loud laugh, or something that lasted for long, but it was a joyous one, one that sounded like it wasn't hard to get and was ready to sound off at the smallest bits of humor.

It was safe to say Zayn was grinning from ear to ear, not finding anything to say back but instead just stare as he traced a finger along the indented wording on the cover of his book.

“Well," Harry touched his hand to the back of his neck. "I just figured if I’m going to be shopping here a lot I should know the name of the person working here.”

Zayn had surely never seen him there before and Harry didn't fit the general look of the normal customers - eccentric people finding themselves or people already devoted - leading him to question: “You’ll be shopping here often?”

“I think I might be.” Harry responded easily enough, slow and deep and intoxicating.

Zayn gave one nod while keeping his eyes resting on Harry's.

“Okay, well then, I should be going.” Harry wrung his hands out in front of him, his shopping bag hanging from his wrist. They both didn't say any goodbyes, Zayn just watched as he turned and headed for the exit once more before turning back _again._ Zayn was caught staring, but Harry definitely didn't seem to care, simply adding, “Oh, and um, Zayn?”

“Yeah, Harry?" He responded instantly, liking the way Harry said his name, hoping maybe Harry would feel the same hearing his name flutter off of Zayn's tongue.

“I just, I don’t – I don’t mean anything by it or like, I’m not trying to be weird, I promise." Harry shook his head. It was like he didn't want to actually voice what he was about to say, but couldn't help but say it anyway. He looked down to the ground at his feet for a split second before finishing. "But you're probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen. And I don’t know. I just thought you should know. Just in case no one's ever told you that before.”

Zayn was stunned. Harry was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He might’ve said that back if he was bolder, if he didn’t overthink everything that came out of his mouth in fear of offense or dislike. Harry clearly didn’t have that problem, dimpling his cheeks as Zayn just blinked in response.

“Okay,” He laughed to himself. “I'll see you again soon, Zayn?”

“You will, Harry.” Zayn finally managed as Harry had one foot out of the door. With that confirmation, Harry took the last step out of the shop and the door closed behind him, leaving Zayn stuck on the same sentence of Kerouac for four more hours.

\---

Three days later, Harry came back. Zayn wasn’t there of course, too busy in his Survey of American Lit class to be working. But Harry asked the employee at hand when Zayn would be back, and entered the shop again hours later.

Harry walked straight to Zayn, not fooling around with stalking through the aisles. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Zayn smiled. He wasn't feeling quite so frazzled seeing Harry then. He must've gotten used to the idea of him over the nights he stayed awake, contemplating the way Harry’s lips curled around his name instead of sleeping. Or maybe not gotten used to, Zayn imagined if they were together for years, he'd never get _used to_ him. But the shock may have worn down a bit. “Looking for anything specific today?” He shook his head of those thoughts, trying to behave in a normal, human-like manner.

“I don’t think so.” Harry quickly examined the shelves closest to him, the ones that were there to display little trinkets people could pick up at the last minute. “Anything you recommend?”

“Not in here.”

“Then where?”

Zayn pointed to a shop across the way to a regular bookstore, one with all the amazing literature written by mortals for everyone to enjoy – one of his favorite things. He often found himself at the rival shop for hours because the owners didn't care if he picked a book off the shelves and found a nice corner for himself to burrow into and tuck into the book.

“Maybe you could show me around there sometime?” Harry suggested with a look in his eye, like it wasn't a big deal if Zayn shot down the idea but would really rather him not.

“It's just a bookstore, Harry." Zayn reminded him, smirking. "I'm sure you can figure it out.”

“Sure," Harry shrugged. "But I think it’d be more fun to see it through your eyes.”

“What could possibly make you think that?”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “I honestly have no clue. I just know it's true.”

Zayn looked him in the eyes and only saw sincerity. Zayn hardly knew anything about the man - not his last name, where he was from, what he did with his time, what his family was like - though, somehow, he felt like he also knew that the bookstore would be more fun with Harry there.

“Okay.” Zayn muttered, too enraptured by the green irises to be as witty as he liked.

“When do you get off? Maybe we can go then?”

"Not for a couple hours. I have a couple hours after class and before my shift tomorrow though.”

“Sounds like a date.” Harry smirked devilishly, clearly proud of himself for his accomplishments.

They set a time for the following day and agreed to meet just outside the shop. Then Harry left and Zayn finally got through a few chapters of his book, but not without a few daydreams every now and then.

\---

Harry got to the bookstore first and waited outside of the front window with two cups in his hands.

Zayn felt a giddiness rise just at the sight. He rushed home after class and made sure he still looked alright from when he got dressed earlier in the day. Halfway through his class, he thought maybe wearing a grey sweater was too drab for a first date. Because if Harry was calling it a date, Zayn realized he didn’t really have a problem with it. And once he got over the shock and fear of someone as beautiful as Harry focusing their attention on a boy like himself, he could only feel good things.

It turned out, the second cup in Harry's hand was a cup of green tea. Harry said he went with it because it was a classic and knew most people liked it, and if it wasn't Zayn's taste then he could have Harry's beloved macchiato. Zayn laughed, shaking his head, not mentioning that green tea was his absolute favorite as he accepted it from Harry's outstretched hand. If their hands grazed and they both felt a spark, Zayn couldn't tell by Harry’s stoic face.

They walked around the store for a long time, going down every aisle, between every case. Harry would watch as Zayn pointed out his favorites on each shelf, then promptly go into a daze as Zayn explained exactly what made them so special to him.

"This one," Zayn lifted up a copy of Infinite Jest, propping it in view using the books stood behind it, "is my absolute favorite, along with many other people, I'm sure. It's funny and sad and beautiful _and_ ugly. A bit disturbing at times."

"Sounds delightful." Harry stared at the cover.

"Yeah. At the time I knew nothing like it at all. I lived quite a sheltered life until I stumbled upon this during freshman year."

"So you're an English major then?" Harry turned away, taking a sip of his nearly gone drink. They'd been there for hours already, how he had any left was unknown.

"Nope. I'm pre-law." Harry's eyebrows rose in shock at Zayn's words. "I love literature, don't get me wrong, but I've always had a passion for law."

"I get that." Harry smiled, taking the copy of Infinite Jest and tucking it under his arm. "I love music, but Art History sucks me in and leaves me reading textbooks for fun."

Zayn laughed at that. He could never read textbooks for fun; his eyes dried out the moment they landed on the printed words of each page in a law book.

"But wait, you're getting Infinite Jest?" Zayn stepped closer to Harry, just so he was able to tap on the hard cover without stretching his arm too far, definitely _not_ because Zayn had wanted to be this close to him since the moment he saw Harry.

Harry nodded mindlessly, caught up in the small space between them. "I've been waiting for you to tell me which one was your favorite so I could pick it up. Took you long enough."

"You're the one who wanted to go through the non-fiction part first." Zayn reminded as he let his eyes slip down to Harry's mouth, to the lips that looked a little chapped from where he stood, but still a brilliant pink and pillow soft.

"Well, I knew if we came straight here you'd be done with me in 30 minutes. This way," Harry lifted his arm, pulling his sleeve at the elbow to reveal a watch at his wrist, taking one step forward, “I've had you talking to me for almost two hours. Pretty smart on my part."

Harry looked proud, almost smug, moving forward another step, getting Zayn to chuckle again until he suddenly felt the wood of a bookcase against his back. Somehow, he had gotten himself in between Harry and the books, and the closer Harry got, the more he hesitantly stepped back. He couldn't move back any farther, and the space was finally nearly gone between them.

"Not the worst idea ever." Zayn joked, throwing back to the comment he made about Harry's name the day they met. Harry got it immediately and let out what Zayn could only call a giggle.

And then, Harry's hand was raised to cup the edge of Zayn's face, holding him steady. And Harry's eyes were examining his to gauge his reaction, and Zayn was feeling the warmth radiate from Harry's hand through his whole body, maybe even his whole life. So it wasn't Harry that leaned in for the kiss even though he was the one to back Zayn up and touch him first. It was Zayn slotting their lips together slowly, waiting for Harry to react.

 

**_December 24 th, 2015_ **

 

Harry didn't make it back to their apartment until after 10pm, having had dinner with his family. The Styles’ were an inconspicuous bunch. Every single one of them had intriguingly marvelous eyes, charming smiles, cavernous dimples, and can all use just the right words to reel you in. They made you feel safe opening up to them, like you'd be dumb not to, and then next thing you knew, you'd be doing whatever they asked.

Zayn was well aware of that. Even though Harry hadn't reached maturity yet, even though he wasn't granted that certain kind of immortality that made everything undeniable, Zayn still felt like if Harry asked him to rob a bank while using that voice he wasn't even aware he was using, Zayn would go in. He'd barge into the closest bank and wouldn't leave until he got everything he _needed._

So it wasn't surprising for Harry to come rattling through the door that night, while Zayn was half stoned, watching Comedy Central for no particular reason. Ever since Zayn gave up his immortality, all the little things his conscience found hard to reconcile - like recreational drugs - washed away. As long as he wasn't hurting anyone or anything, as long as it was for enjoyment and never out of perceived need, he could do it without feeling a part of his soul eating itself up.

Looking up from the TV, over to his boyfriend, Zayn could see the bad mood Harry was sporting. It was in every feature: the scowl of his face, the hunch of his shoulders, his tight grip on their house key.

"Hey, babe." Zayn greeted, waiting for Harry to close the door behind him. "How was it?"

The question sparked movement, getting Harry to slam the door as he turned around to it, throw his keys in the dish Zayn insisted he keep his keys and shrug off his coat.

"Okay." Harry finally answered, stalking off to their bedroom, closing another door a little too harshly.

Zayn wouldn't play into his shitty attitude just because Harry surrounded himself with those toxic people. He could only imagine what happened. Harry probably got there. Anne welcomed him into her too warm arms. Gemma made him laugh and realize that he had missed her. Then his step-dad swooped in and guilt tripped Harry for not coming around because "your mother just loves and misses you so much, son.” They probably all had dinner together and pretended to truly love one another, like their need to have Harry around wasn't about pride but actual concern for him.

Anne would've given Harry a present and a kiss and a plate of his favorite cookies. They would tell him to stay and to forget about Zayn, and the only reason he wouldn't was because he couldn't ever forget about Zayn.

Zayn rolled his eyes at the way Harry was treated and went back to the random Ryan Reynolds movie. He felt bad for Harry, he loved Harry with every ounce of his being. But he wouldn't feel like shit because Harry loved him back.

A part of him knew, as he was watching the comedy in front of him, that he would feel bad though, because no matter what, he also knew Harry loved his family so much. Even if Zayn despised the thoughts he'd sometimes get more than anything, he knew Harry would occasionally wonder them too - _who does Harry love more? Is Zayn worth giving all the others up? Is Harry only going through all of this because Zayn already chose him?_

The movie was coming to an end and Zayn was about to go crawl up his bed, wrap around his boyfriend he unabashedly loved, and try to make those thoughts run away, to never come back. But the sound of their door creaking open was just a little bit louder than the end credits, and Harry's footstep padded along slow enough to show remorse.

He stepped around their couch and sat at the furthest end away from Zayn.

"They just make me feel so bad, Zayn." Harry confirmed all Zayn's guesses, not looking away from a spot on their carpet. "I don't mean to be a dick to you. You know that, right?"

Zayn knew that more than anything else, more than the questions that they dwelled on or the guilt Harry felt. He knew Harry didn't mean to be the way he sometimes - _rarely -_ was.

"Yeah, I know, Haz." Zayn stretched across the couch, so his foot could nudge Harry's thigh. Harry was already grinning again by the time he glanced in his boyfriend’s direction. Zayn waved him closer, and next thing they knew, they were intertwined together, not able to tell where one of them started and the other ended.

 

**_January 12th, 2015_ **

 

Things were a lot different for Zayn. His parents weren't happy about his choices. Especially since he was giving up a life of serenity and purity for a life with someone who experienced things the exact opposite. They were scared for him mainly. Scared that he would choose Harry and then regret it. Scared that he would get lost without them, that he wouldn't know what to do without the light that he had grown up feeling inside him, the light that guided him.

Zayn was scared, too, when the time had come to give it up. He and Harry had just found their apartment. They were settled in, ready for the big change that would come for Zayn - for the night Zayn's angel was ripped from Zayn's human.

Harry hadn't talked to his family in five months, after a fight once he finally told them he wasn't going to devote himself to all the darkness. Harry was so supportive with Zayn, always making him feel secure in the decision they had made all that time ago.

He was Zayn's rock, telling him to spend his last birthday with his parents before they weren't _meant_ to see each other again. Of course they would, in passing maybe, at a mall or the movies. But even the Angels had a hard time spending time with the people who turned away from their lifestyle - it was like some draining life source for them, breaking their heart to be around someone who found another way of life.

His parents still let him in on his birthday, with presents and cake and hugs and kisses. His sisters were there too, ready to look over photos and reminisce as if Zayn was dying and not just living in the city with his love.

Zayn's dad was sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a sneaky second slice of cake. Zayn left everyone else on the couch, laughing over a naked 4-year-old Zayn in the tub.

"Mind if I join you for a second?" Zayn pulled out one of the vinyl chairs, sitting down before he could get an answer.

"Not one bit." Yaser shook his head back and forth, eating an even bigger bite of what was mainly frosting. Zayn picked the knife up from his dad's plate and cut himself a piece, then proceeded to eat in utter silence.

"So you're nervous, son?"

Zayn shrugged. He never had a relationship with his dad where he had to lie or hide his feelings, but he wasn't ready to blatantly admit the elephant that sat on his chest.

"That's okay. There's no shame in fear." His father set his fork on his plate. "It won't hurt."

"What if I regret it in the morning?"

Yaser laughed. "Then you're out of luck."

Zayn swallowed hard, his eyes stinging at his father's harshness. He had never been a fan of Harry, not when he first saw his son with him outside of the bookstore and not when, years later, his son was choosing him over his family. But he was never a cruel man, never told Zayn he was making the wrong choice.

"Now, Zayn," he started, "you've thought about this a long time. You and Harry have decided this together. This _is_ the life you want. It may not feel like it right now, while your mom and sisters are laughing in the other room. But this is the life you want."

"I know." Zayn affirmed. It was what he wanted, more than anything - to spend all his days consumed with the love he would burn his wings in hellfire for.

"It'll be hard. But eventually, you'll have a family of your own. You'll have Harry and will be proud of the life you experienced. We will too."

Zayn stared at nothing in particular, feeling just a few hot tears stream down his face. At that, his father lifted his hand and used just his thumb to wipe away the tears from his son's jaw, then pat his shoulder in the most comforting way he knew how.

Zayn was out the door by 6pm, tears from all the amazing women he loved so dearly staining his shirt.

Harry was hugging him as soon as the front door was unlocked, clearly waiting the entire time. The hug was strong and comforting but at the same time, it was needy. Zayn clutched the shirt on Harry's back when he felt the sigh of relief leave Harry's mouth and brush against his neck.

"I'm so glad you're home." Harry mumbled into his skin, kissing up his jaw.

"Me too, babe." Zayn said without lie.

That was the worst of it that night - Zayn going into a hot sweat just before midnight and overcome with sadness as he laid naked in bed. And _at_ midnight, not much happened except for a sheen of light rising from Zayn's body and out of the window.

It was the first time either one of them had ever seen physical proof that what they were told they were was true - that Zayn was indeed an angel. They always knew it was true, but had never seen it. And now they never would again.

Zayn fell asleep not long after, while Harry stayed awake and drew figure eights across Zayn's bare skin, trying to forget how many tears were shed because of him.

 

**_January 12th, 2016_ **

 

Christmas and New Year’s went off without a hitch. They didn't get each other much in the present department. Zayn got Harry a few vinyls for the record player he had given him the year before, and Harry got Zayn a brand new addition of _1984_. Their true gifts came later in the day, when they were laid up, bare skin on skin, tracing every part of the other’s body with fingers and teeth and tongues. It was enough for them.

On New Year's Eve, they threw a small party at their place, inviting over all their friends from work and drinking until the ball dropped. Niall and Louis and Liam were three of the closest friends they had, the ones that knew more than the others. Niall was the only one who knew all their secrets, having grown up next door to Harry and being the guy he went to when he met Zayn almost three years ago, the guy he went to when he was supposed to stay away from Zayn but couldn’t. When Zayn and Niall met, it was the beginning of a whole new family.

Everyone started to filter out of their apartment slowly, and by 2am, the room that was once filled with close to 20 people just contained two. They thought about maybe going out and joining Niall and Louis at some bar, but they were already drunk enough to enjoy their slower movements and drooping eyes. Instead they watched the first movie of the new year and fell asleep on the couch.

Zayn woke up a couple hours later to loud banging in the kitchen, sounding like someone was having a passionate fight with the pots and pans. The alcohol left in his system allowed him to roll back over and not worry about what got Harry to move around so late.

\---

Only twelve days into the new year, and it was Zayn’s birthday. Zayn had always looked forward to his birthday growing up – knowing his mom would make a cake and his dad would sneak more than he probably should’ve. His sisters would scrape together money and without fail, get him some kind of art supply product. They’d have a chilled night, maybe Liam or Louis would come over and try to corrupt him with cigarettes and tattoos. Zayn would always turn it down, his conscience eating away at him if he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t manage to get too excited about his current birthday, though – his first one without his parents and sisters. Since his last one, he’s gotten more tattoos and smoked more cigarettes than he could count, finally not feeling any remorse about wanting things he’s wanted – or well, no more than the average human.

And when Louis and Liam came over in the afternoon, before Zayn was supposed to have dinner with Harry, they took note of that.

“Twenty two’s been a good year for ya, huh, Zayners?” Liam propped his foot on the coffee table as Louis packed a bowl for him and Zayn to share. “Coming into your skin a bit more.”

“Yeah.” Zayn agreed, taking the pipe from Louis’ hand and sparking the lighter over the weed, waiting for it to glow the right shade of orange before removing the flame and inhaling the smoke. He kept it in his lungs as long as possible, perhaps a little too long because he ended up coughing after exhaling and passing the bowl.

It had been a good year, the best year of his life. He had loved nearly every moment of it. At work, he was doing _good_ things, trying to help the people who needed it but couldn’t get it. Even though it was a job, it was the kind of job that gave back so much it felt like a privilege – in Zayn’s opinion, at least. At home, happiness and love tainted everything he and Harry touched. Every adventure they decided to go on together, every moment of joy they chased, made them grow closer. They shared some of the most intimate moments in the span of his 22nd year.

Zayn was coming into his own.

But it was also scary. Doubt was only _human,_ which was all Zayn had now other than Harry – humanity. He didn’t regret a moment of it. He just also couldn’t ignore the nights when Harry wouldn’t sleep, or the days when he wouldn’t eat; the dark circles under Harry’s eyes were only growing deeper, more purple. His fire was dimming, and Zayn had to watch the light leave his body. Even though that was light of a demon, it still looked amazingly radiating from that place deep inside Harry’s soul.

“Still can’t seem to take a hit without coughing, though.” Louis laughed, eyes already turned glassy and red, an easy smile playing at his lips.

Zayn mocked a laugh, snatching the weed back, taking multiple hits this time, until his mind was only roaming over pleasant things. _How big is the universe? What do aliens look like? Does life on other planets also possess angels and demons?_

\---

Harry got back from his errands right as Liam and louis were leaving, patting him on the back and whistling when they saw all the bags in his hands. Zayn shook his head and pushed them out the door quicker.

“What are you making tonight?” Zayn wondered as he followed Harry into the kitchen, watching as he placed the groceries on the countertops.

"You'll just have to wait and see. Go get high and read or something."

"Nah, babe, I think I'd much rather stay here and watch you slave over the stove for me." Zayn caught Harry by a belt loop as he was going for a pan in the cabinet above Zayn's shoulder.

Harry tried to move away but pretended to be stuck, shrugging into a kiss like it was the least he could do. It was a kiss they shared many times before, much like their first one - hungry for no reason and gentle for all the right ones. Zayn got hold of Harry's bottom lip, biting then sucking like Harry wanted, snatching a soft moan from the back of his throat.

The sound went straight to Zayn's dick, causing him to pull Harry closer and hitch a leg around his hip, thrusting so Harry could feel him. Something about feeling every inch of his boyfriend's body was too much for Zayn to not be greedy, to not start something when he knew Harry was trying to do something entirely different.

"Baby." Harry panted, pushing Zayn's chest back with a laugh. "Not yet." He whispered into Zayn's mouth, in a way that said he was loving the way he was acting but needed him to behave. "Go read." He kissed him once, stepping away as he added, "And happy birthday."

Zayn rolled his eyes, huffing to himself more than Harry, then collected himself as he stalked back to the living room, picking up the first book he could find.

Three chapters of _The Age of Innocence_ later, and Harry was calling Zayn to their dining room table adjacent to the kitchen on the opposite side of the living room. From what Zayn could smell, the meal was something Italian, something filled with tomatoes. It wasn't his mom's cooking, something Harry never even attempted, but it was what he could do, and he did it well. Maybe Zayn would've preferred something his mom could only make, but Harry always put so much love into his meals that the lasagna was almost better than Chicken Tikka.

The lasagna was delicious, and as they sat there, eating and sipping on wine, Harry started to get touchy from across the table. He started laughing louder at jokes that weren't even that funny and biting his lip in anticipation for whatever was going to come out of Zayn's mouth next.

"So, good birthday, Mr. Malik?" Harry placed his hand over Zayn's, tracing the mandala tattooed into his skin.

"Mhmm." Zayn watched Harry's fingers, dazed, full on food and warmth. "Good year."

"Yeah?"

"Course. Good job. Good place to live. Good food."

"Anything else?"

"Good mortality." Zayn faked remembering, like that even mattered to him. Harry's face didn't take well to the joke, dropping the smile he had been wearing. But not considering that, Zayn continued. "You'll be getting a piece of the good life soon."

Harry's hand didn't move away from Zayn's, just stopped its tracing - the tracing Harry knew so well he didn't have to look at Zayn's hand to be able to follow the lines perfectly. "What are you trying to say?"

Zayn blinked a few times at Harry's tone, unaware of why he sounded so defensive. "Nothing, babe. What are you talking about?"

"I haven't been living the good life?"

Zayn could feel his jaw dropping slowly. "Yeah, ya have. I was just messing around."

"Didn't sound like it?" Harry was scowling then, brow drawn and jaw clenched.

How they went from laughing and touching to leaning as far away from each other in their chairs had Zayn scratching his head.

"Seriously, Harry? We were fucking around."

"Like we always do. We never talk about what you want to talk about and then you say shit like that."

"Like what?" Zayn didn't say anything wrong, God forbid he bring up the M word. "Like you'll be mortal soon?"

"Yes, that shit."

"Why are you so mad right now?"

"I'm so fucking sick of passive aggressive Zayn." Harry stood up, throwing his chair back and his hands up. His voice was one notch away from yelling. Harry wasn't like this. He wasn't one to get mad out of nowhere and start fights with Zayn. Sure they fought, but about reasonable things - Zayn forgetting to buy more milk, Harry throwing out the paper before Zayn could read it, either one of them not waiting for the other to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones.

Harry wasn't always the sweetest on instinct. It took effort on his part. But he never got mean with Zayn like that.

"Calm down." Zayn said as calmly, as evenly as he could.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Telling me what to do all the time! Micromanaging me. Watching me so I won't snap." Harry started picking up his plate and utensils in an unsteady hurry.

Zayn stood up as well, making his way around the table to get closer. "Whatever, Harry. I'm not doing this today. Go sleep off your wine."

"No, thanks. I'd much rather walk it off." He threw his plate into the sink as he passed it, shattering the glass, leaving the apartment with a slam of the door.

Zayn stood in place for a long while once he was alone. Whatever just happened between him and Harry was a first - fighting over things that Zayn didn't even know were issues to Harry. Maybe he _was_ micromanaging, maybe he _was_ watching Harry. He was just so scared sometimes, so fearful that in a few weeks everything that made his year so great would be gone. It wasn't Harry's fault.

It was just his brain at work. His humanity at work.

Once Zayn finished standing in that same place, he began pacing for an hour or so, mulling over his tiny joke that turned into broken plates and slammed doors. The only logical explanation was that darkness was creeping, trying to take Harry - away from Zayn and their friends and everything he knew Harry truly wanted.

After a while, his feet got tired even if his mind didn't - couldn't - so he got undressed in a haze and wrapped himself in bed. More time passed, and his hand twitched with his need to text Harry. Harry had never stormed out of a fight like that. He may have been a demon, but Zayn used to be an angel, he used to be able to calm him when he got a bit upset about milk, never letting it escalate.

Zayn started to think, after Harry being gone for four hours and it no longer being his birthday, that something bad could've happened. He could've met up with his family and they got him, they enticed him with promises that they'd keep but that wouldn't really benefit anyone.

Those thoughts were interrupted by the sudden lips on the back of his neck and arms wrapping around his middle - only one body fitting against his that perfectly.

"I'm so sorry." Harry's voice sounded as quiet as ever flowing into Zayn’s skin, breaking instantly. Zayn couldn't resist fitting his hand over Harry's with a tight squeeze and cuddling back. "My head gets foggy, Zayn. It's been worse lately but don't give up on me, okay?"

Zayn squeezed harder. "Never, Harry," he promised. "But, you still want this, right? You still want mortality and a life with me?"

"God, Zayn." Harry's head shook back and forth, his nose grazing over the tattoo on Zayn's neck, lips pressing hot and desperate to his skin. "All I want."

 

 ** _February_** **_6th_** , **_2013_**

 

Kissing Harry morphed quickly. Soon they were spending as much time together as possible, going to the bookstore together, going to get coffee, Harry lounging around at the Malik's store while Zayn worked. It had almost been a month and not a moment of their time together felt boring or stale.

Every second was filled with discovering each other in nearly every sense of the word. Hours were spent with words exchanged - hopes, dreams, loves, hates. Zayn felt like he owned a map of Harry's mind, getting everything he'd want to know about it with little prodding on his part. Zayn was less talkative, but he could tell by the way Harry's eyes read his own that Harry had a map too.

And their lips memorized each other's skin - their necks and collarbones, the part below Harry's jaw that drove him crazy when Zayn nipped. They hadn't had a chance for anything more, with Zayn working and school and Harry's family demands, and Zayn couldn't bring himself to be _too_ upset about that.

They were doing some of that learning outside of the bookstore - Harry backing Zayn against the brick wall, lips in the crook between his neck and shoulder, biting then lapping the heat with his tongue. It had Zayn whimpering the quietest sounds, thanking the Angels that the street wasn't a busy one.

Harry often giggled when he got Zayn like that - breathless from a few bites - and as intoxicating as that sound was, Zayn didn't like to feel useless, like all he was was pliable at the mouth of the gorgeous boy with wickedly beautiful green eyes. He was stroking up the bottom of Harry's loose shirt to remedy that, and also to feel the tight, warm skin against his fingertips in the cruel winter. But mostly to get that giggle morph into more of the sounds he was making.

Zayn was well aware of how much Harry liked to touch, whether it be innocently across the counter at work or with purposeful, roaming hands. They never got much further than that, but Harry must've known why.

"Zayn." Harry hummed out, extending the vowels to almost whine his name as Zayn massaged soft circles into his chest.

Zayn smirked at the sound, using his nose to nudge Harry's face in front of him, reconnecting their lips with slow intent. They moved into each other, closing any space that could've been left, and moved their mouths in sync, deepening it that much more. Zayn felt himself falling apart at every flick of Harry's tongue.

They hadn't had a discussion of what they were to each other, if they were friends who liked to taste each other or boyfriends who couldn't get enough. Moments like that had Zayn believing in the latter.

"Zayn!" Zayn heard again, but this time it wasn't a whine, or a moan, or a hum. It wasn't from the boy's mouth that still attached to his. It was a different familiar voice - his father's.

He pushed Harry away, not trying to be rough, just needing to not be in this position in his dad's presence. He looked over to the direction of their store and saw his dad's head sticking out of the door. Yaser wasn't angry, that was clear to see even if Zayn hadn't known how serene his dad was, but his eyes read something else, almost like fear and disappointment. That was worse for Zayn.

He rushed across the street, leaving Harry without a look back, mortified by being caught.

But then he heard his name one last time and turned back to see a frazzled Harry, shoulders slumped and a wounded expression on his face.

"I'll text ya, babe." He yelled back, before stepping through the door, using the pet name for the first time. It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like it was meant for Harry, causing Zayn to ponder over that while waiting for his dad to lecture him on whatever he was going to lecture him on.

Zayn definitely liked to believe they were boyfriends who couldn't get enough.

"Zayn, what were you doing with him?"

"Dad. We talked about this."

Zayn came out when he was 17 and was definite that he liked boys. He couldn't hold the secret in, he was always bad with that. And his parents were accepting as ever, hugging him with all their might and petting his hair down as Zayn stopped crying from the fear of it all.

"No, son." Yaser clutched his son's shoulder. "With Styles? Why are you with Styles?"

"Harry? How do you know him?"

"You shouldn't be around him, he's bad news."

"I don't think you have the right person." Zayn laughed. His dad couldn't have. Nothing about Harry whispered bad news. Not with his bright smile and charming wit and endearing sweetness. Harry was the kind of guy who made jokes all day while Zayn worked just so the time would go by quicker. A lot of his jokes fell flat, but the effort put in always made Zayn chuckle.

"You have no idea who he is. His family isn't friends with ours." His father raised his eyebrows in the way he did when Zayn was supposed to know what he was meaning, as if they had some telepathic link he was unaware of.

Zayn shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"They are our natural enemies. We never fight with them, that would be against _our_ ways, but it is impossible to be around them." Yaser explained as a simple fact. Zayn still didn't get it. It didn't feel impossible to him, it felt inevitable to be around Harry. Yaser saw the look on his son's face and decided to just spell it out. "The Styles’ are demons, son. That boy you were kissing is a demon."

"A demon?" Zayn laughed while shaking his head, not enjoying the joke but not able to help himself. "No way. He looks nothing like one."

"What does one look like? Do you look like an angel? That doesn't mean you aren't one."

Zayn looked away from his father, to the window at his right. Harry was no longer out there but Zayn really wished he was. His father rarely lied to him, if ever, so when he saw the serious look in his eyes, Zayn knew the truth.

"It'll be best you stay away from him. Neither one of you have reached maturity but you will in a couple years and it'll physically drain you to be with one another, if you can even stand it. Just end things now and save the pain, Zayn." Yaser instructed. He was giving Zayn orders about staying away from their natural enemies, and still, he looked sorry to be doing it - sorry to be telling his son something he didn't want to hear even though he had to.

"Yeah." Zayn nodded. The air in the room thinned. He could've argued with his dad right then, could've told him he couldn't possibly stay away from Harry. They'd known each other less than a month but Zayn already felt so much for him; he was already having dreams of his unruly curls and wild laugh. Every time Harry's name randomly popped into his brain, butterflies fluttered.

Zayn thought better of it though, because as soon as Harry found out about Zayn being an angel, he'd have no problem never looking back.

\---

"And?" Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

Zayn wasn't sure what was so funny, or eye roll worthy. "Did you hear me? I'm an angel."

"Yeah, and?" Harry didn't look shocked at all, like he was hearing old news.

"Wait," Zayn held up his hands, backing around the other side of the store's front counter. "You knew? This whole time?"

"Well you are a Malik, so yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I figured you knew?" Harry smiled.

Zayn couldn't believe how casual he was being. He was dreading telling Harry, going over it in his head all day, trying to think of the best way to do it. When Harry showed up, reaching around Zayn's waist from behind as he stocked a shelf, Zayn blurted it out.

"How would I know?" Zayn scoffed, almost, _almost_ mad for not being told the truth.

Harry’s smile weakened a little, picking up on Zayn's mood. "Didn't your parents go over all this shit when telling you?"

"They never really told me, I always just knew." Zayn could always feel the light in his heart, so when he finally asked his parents when he was nine, they just confirmed to him something he somehow _knew -_ they were all angels.

"I just found out a few days before I came in here and met you." Harry smirked, fond over the memory.

Zayn couldn't imagine not knowing about such a big part of him, how could Harry not know? But Zayn was still stuck on Harry keeping all that away from him. "So you knew right away who I was?"

"No, my stepdad told me when I came in the house with a Malik's Bookstore bag. That's why it took me a few days to work up the nerve to come back. I figured you'd kick me out on sight, but then you looked at me like you didn't care so I thought you didn't."

"I had no idea." Zayn stared passed Harry, avoiding his entire being completely.

"Well, why does it matter? Why do you look so mad about it?"

Zayn huffed incredulously. "Because I'm an angel and you're a demon. To quote my father, we're natural enemies."

"We didn't feel like natural enemies outside of the bookstore." Harry kinked an eyebrow, leaning over the counter just that much closer to Zayn.

"You should probably go." Zayn snapped, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"What?" His voice seemed like it was drained of all that playfulness it carried moments before. “No, Zayn.”

Zayn had never really needed to end anything with someone before. The one relationship he had fizzled out so quickly that it wasn't even a big deal when they both agreed to stop seeing each other last summer. That was an eight-month thing and now Zayn was ending something after three weeks and wanted to barrel himself into another dimension and never come back when he said the words, "I can't see you anymore."

"Why?" Harry burst suddenly. "Because of some fucked up fate shit?" He reached for Zayn's wrist, placing his hands over the exposed skin.

Zayn dragged his eyes up no matter how hard he resisted, but stood his ground. "Yes. Because it's no use to even do this if it'll physically pain us to be around each other in a few years."

"Fuck that! Who cares about years from now?" Harry questioned, his eyes blown wide. Zayn clenched his jaw, he knew he was thinking too much into Harry to begin with anyway. "Angels and demons was just a Tom Hanks movie to me a month ago. Now I'm going to let that change who I see?" Harry added with a shrug.

"Umm, yeah." Zayn opened his book, but he had to ask. "How could you only know for a month?"

"My parents said they didn't want to tell me until I could _handle_ it." Harry used air quotes around the word handle. "I just figured all the things that happened for me was because of my charm, not some fucking sick out worldly shit."

"It's not shit, Harry. It's who we are."

"Who we are?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Zayn, you may be sweet and beautiful and soft and perfect, but I doubt that's because you're an angel."

"That is exactly what it is."

"No." Harry smiled, shaking his head. "I think that would be who you are without your natural inclination towards it."

"You don't know shit." Zayn was fed up with Harry. His kind words and his sincere looks. He looked nothing - _was_ nothing - like the demon he was and it just frustrated Zayn so much more. It got him angry for the first time in a long time.

"Whatever, Zayn. I never knew you were so prejudice." Harry pushed away from the counter, getting angry himself, or maybe that was hurt he was wearing. Zayn couldn't tell anymore. "I don't give a fuck about who I am or who you are. I just care about how amazing you make me feel. You bring the opposite of pain into my fucked up life but since your daddy said I'm bad, that we're no good for each other, you're going to disregard the way I make you moan."

"Jesus, Harry." Zayn said immediately, blushing at the bluntness.

"Oh, don't be a prude, baby." Harry smirked, the rest of his face emotionless, as the words slipped off his tongue.

Zayn had nothing to say back; he couldn't even if he wasn't shocked from the fire burning inside of him. Like the crutch it was, Zayn picked up his book and pretended to read.

"I guess it was nice knowing you." Harry sighed, his footsteps retreating to the door.

Zayn never let his eyes leave the words on the page, scared he'd break if he saw Harry's face again. His dad would be proud of him.

Hours went by and Zayn didn't look away from the book, not until a rare customer would come up with a purchase. He didn't actually get any reading done. Every time he finished a page, he'd just realize he had been thinking of the look on Harry's face, the words he spoke, and how much Zayn felt them to be the truth deep inside.

Zayn personally didn't care about who they were, originally thinking Harry would be the one to have problems with it. But that wasn't the case and he still found himself turning away from the boy. It was probably the fear he too often felt when he ever had an inkling of a thought to go against what his parents suggested, something eating at his conscience.

Sometimes though, very rarely, his heart conflicted with that fear and made him question everything. The longer he sat there, the quieter his conscience got and the louder his heart beat.

He finally looked up, staring at the empty aisles and striking his fingers along the pages of his book, remembering how much Harry tried to like the ones he recommended to him.

After their first kiss, he came into the shop two days later ranting about how fucked Infinite Jest was - "funny and insightful but too fucked to be a favorite," Harry had said. He then went through two more books before giving up, saying Zayn needed to get a happier taste and winked at him, bringing their mouths together to instigate an hour long make out session that didn't move further than what Zayn was ready for.

Those memories had Zayn's stomach all tied up, sickness barreling through him.

At closing, Zayn turned all the lights out and locked the door. All he wanted to do was go home and curl into his bed, not moving until the weekend was over, ignoring his shifts. He would never be able to, but he wished he could.

But when he turned around, facing the bookstore, he saw a person sitting on the concrete, just outside of the front window. He had to do a double take, realizing it was Harry with a book propped on his knees, reading by the light of the streetlights.

Zayn knew he was fucked. Just the sight of him had his breath stuttering. As fast as the previous day, he crossed the street and took a seat next to Harry, drawing his eyes immediately.

"Fuck all that." Zayn whispered and threw his hand in the direction of his parents’ shop, staring directly into Harry's eyes that lit up when Zayn cracked the slightest bit of a grin. "Right, babe?"

"I think so." Harry turned towards him, placing his hand on Zayn's inner thigh and breathing in as he moved his head to his shoulder.

 

**_March 9th, 2013_ **

 

Zayn hadn't yet had sex when he first met Harry. He had done other stuff, with both boys and girls, but he never felt like it was right with them. He never felt like he was ready to take that next step with them, something deep in his heart knew it wasn't the time.

So when he felt that it was right with Harry, it scared him. For months all they did was kiss and touch and cuddle in Zayn's bed when he managed to sneak Harry in. They never talked about Zayn's virginity, but he was sure Harry knew. Why else would they not be doing anything more?

A couple weeks before, Harry blew Zayn for the first time. In haste and desperate wanting, it made Zayn preen and gasp and close his eyes in ecstasy he only felt from his own hand before. Harry swallowed him down without blinking at Zayn’s warning.

Harry crawled back up his body and Zayn wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, nervous that he would do something wrong but still determined to get him off. He must've done something right because after just a little coaxing, Harry was biting Zayn's bottom lip and releasing in his hand.

The act was full of desire and almost love but still, with Harry making his devilish sounds and teasing his tongue, it felt so dirty and Zayn absolutely loved it.

Now, Zayn was positive he wanted Harry in every way. He wasn't sure how he got so certain. He always thought he'd be married before he gave that part of himself to someone. Something about Harry made him forget that - maybe it was the love Zayn knew he felt for him.

The day Zayn realized it, he was sitting at work, working on a paper for criminal law. Harry popped into his mind and then magically, he walked in the door. Over the screen of his laptop, he watched Harry read a book - the sun shining in the window and onto him, making his pale skin glisten and his deep brown locks reflect some light. And Zayn just knew.

He walked around the counter, the store completely empty, and crashed onto Harry's lap with a giggle. Harry moved the book aside, placing both hands on Zayn's hips, stabilizing him on top of him.

“Hey.” Harry smirked inches from Zayn and went in for a kiss. Their lips melded together easily enough, having done hardly anything but for almost two entire months. Since Zayn's freak out last month, they hadn't really spent much time apart. Labels were still left off of what they were, though they were definitely something more than just friends.

“Hi.” Zayn pulled back just enough so he could talk. “I get off in an hour, take me to your house after?”

Harry cocked his head, eyebrows raised before realization hit. “Yeah, no one will be home until tonight.”

“Plus,” Zayn laughed as he traced his finger from Harry’s brow to the bow of his lip, “your family believes in locks, right?”

Harry's eyes went wide. “Malik! What happened to my innocent Zayn?”

Zayn shook his head and stood up, ignoring the feeling in his chest he always got when staring at Harry’s green eyes.

He got back to work, or at least tried to while thinking of Harry, and before he knew it, he was being pushed back onto Harry’s bed with the door locked behind him.

“Fuck, Zayn.” Harry growled from the edge of the bed, staring down at Zayn fanned out on his back, out of breath from the kiss Harry used to suck the air out of his lungs. “You look fucked already. With those pink lips.” He reached a finger to Zayn's face, and ran it along Zayn's bottom lip. “That hair.” He ran his hand through the disheveled black locks, pulling Zayn's head back with a gentle grip, then bit at his exposed neck.

Zayn intertwined his hands as he gasped. “You drive me crazy, Harry.”

“ _I_ drive _you_ crazy?” Harry created distance between them, eyeing Zayn hard like he was insane for saying such a thing. “Do you not see what you do to me all the time?”

Zayn swallowed and shook his head, disbelief riddling his brain, pulling Harry’s mouth back to his anyway. Between kisses he finally got enough sense to ask, “Do you have any-?”

“What?” Harry sounded shocked while Zayn took his turn pressing his lips to the vein running down the side of Harry’s neck. “You sure?”

“Aren't you?”

“Yeah, but it's different for me, Zayn. I want you to be ready.”

Zayn bit his lip, thinking over Harry, absorbing the feelings of lust rolling off Harry’s larger frame.

“I trust you, babe. I do. I'm ready.” He nodded his head after every statement, certain, determined, _ready and wanting_. Before he finished his last word, he was already lifting up and taking his shirt off. Harry splayed his fingers on his chest, feeling the tiny ridges, the smooth skin, the small heat. Then, he reached over and pulled a condom and a tube of lube from his bed side table.

“We’ll go slow.” Harry promised as he went for another open mouthed kiss, surprised when Zayn slowly teased him with the tip of his tongue. Harry pulled back and placed his forehead on Zayn's, taking a breath as Zayn went for Harry's buttons. His shirt was off then he was on his back.

Zayn may have been a virgin, but he knew kissing, he knew how to make people want him - that's all he had ever done up until that point. He made his way down Harry's neck, his chest, his stomach, with his mouth, before he stopped at the lining of his jeans, biting a love mark onto Harry’s hip where words were tattooed into his skin. Harry gripped the back of his neck, exhaling in a larger breath, and Zayn began undoing his belt.

From there, it all went by so fast. They were completely naked, and for the first time, Zayn was being opened up with the most delicate fingers. He felt all his nerve endings alive and his cock hard against his stomach. He could feel that Harry was just the same way when he ground down, trying his hardest not to but not being able to help it when Zayn moaned his name. Harry sucked on his bottom lip, examining Zayn, feeling Zayn. Only when he knew Zayn was ready for him - physically - he pushed into Zayn, slowly.

Half way in and he stopped at Zayn’s cringe. Zayn just shook his head and pulled his shoulders forward, signaling him to move. He got all the way in and stopped again, not moving until he couldn't hold it anymore and he could tell that it was more painful for Zayn than if he didn't. In a steady, lethargic rhythm, he pulled out half way, then resurged.

Before Zayn knew it, he was enjoying it, not completely because it was a new, different feeling, but yeah, he could see himself loving it really soon. Especially once he saw the way Harry reacted, biting his lip, throwing his head back, cursing Zayn’s name. Harry shot into the condom with his hands gripping Zayn’s thighs, and mouth dropped wide open. He pulled out immediately and used the precome from Zayn’s tip to grip him and have him coming after a few pulls.

Zayn was staring at the ceiling, blissed out and exhausted, already thinking about how much better he’d be for Harry the next time. Harry rolled over, burrowing into Zayn’s side, tracing his fingers around Zayn’s nipples, getting a giggle.

He propped himself using an elbow and said without consequence, “I don’t think I ever want to give you up.”

“That’s because you just fucked me.” Zayn laughed. He didn’t believe it, he knew it was a lie, he just didn’t want to get his hopes up with one of Harry’s off hand comments.

Harry sat up halfway, getting a better look. “No, I’m serious, Zayn. I will never love anyone the way I love you.”

That statement Harry said so easily had Zayn’s breath leaving his body and heart racing. “Love me?”

“Yeah, don’t you feel that?” Harry’s eyes were wild, his lips upturned, his hair a mess and his skin glistening like at the bookstore.

Zayn nodded, “All the time.”

“All I want.” Harry leaned back over, feeling every part of Zayn he could get to. Harry said he couldn't give up Zayn, and Zayn knew he’d never be able to forget Harry, but was he saying what Zayn thought he was?

“I’d gladly stay away from the darkness for you.”

And there it was, he was saying just what Zayn thought he’d never want. Zayn couldn't even respond, instead choosing to pull Harry closer, knowing they were going to need to get used to each other if they actually went through with what Harry was suggesting, but maybe also loving the warmth of the boy who loved him.

 

**_January 31th, 2016_ **

 

Zayn’s feet pounded the pavement as he ran closer to his apartment. Smoke was filling the sky and flashing red lights of fire trucks danced around the neighborhood, hitting him in the eye periodically.

His heart fell out of his chest as he turned the corner to his street; it was pummeled when he saw from which building the disturbance was coming. He made his way through the crowd of people as quickly as possible, only catching his breath after spotting Harry standing near a fireman, wrapped in a blanket and biting on his nails.

“Haz!” Zayn all but yelled as he approached. “What’s going on?”

Harry whipped around at his nickname with wild eyes and trembling hands. “I started a fire.”

“What?” Zayn didn’t know if he heard him right. Obviously a fire had started, but no way it could be from Harry. He would never do such a thing - even if he has roots engrained in the darkness.

“I started a fire.” Harry repeated in the exact same panicked tone.

“How?” The air rushed out of Zayn once again. Images ran rampant through his brain; he wasn’t sure how they would get out of this one if it was due to Harry sowing some kind of demonic urge to destroy.

Those thoughts were killed when Harry’s chin wobbled. “I was trying to make dinner.” He began, throwing his hand to his forehead and pushing curls out of his eyes. “ _Things_ got out of hand and I ruined our home.”

Zayn instantly felt for his boyfriend while simultaneously feeling the most relieved he had been in a long time. The firemen couldn’t blame an accident on him and Zayn wouldn’t have to hide his knowledge of what really happened since it wasn’t intentional.

“Babe, it’s okay.” He stepped closer to Harry, grabbing him by both shoulders, ignoring the whirling chaos around them and only focusing on the chaos brewing behind green eyes.

“I need to get out of here. I shouldn’t be here.” Harry pulled back, worried, scared, sorrowful. “I ruin everything.”

“Stop it.” Zayn demanded. Harry was blowing this up. He didn’t mean to do anything - this didn’t have to mean anything.

Harry shook his head and got out of Zayn’s grasp completely. “My mom said I could come to her house.”

That was the absolute last thing Zayn wanted to hear come out of his mouth. Anne Styles had no part of tonight. They had decided that weeks ago, once Harry came back from their house in one of the worst moods Zayn had ever seen him in.

“Harry, no.” Zayn eyed him with intention - trying to communicate what he couldn’t say with so many people around. If Harry went to Anne’s, Zayn would never see him again. Bile rose in his throat.

“I have to go.” Harry looked to be convincing himself, as if he _had_ to talk himself into it along with Zayn. Suddenly, his face turned vacant and cold, decided on his fate.

That look alone caused the first surge of anger in Zayn for the night. It was a hard emotion for him to come by, but right then, it was as easy as pie.

“I swear, Harry.” Zayn bit, not even sure how he would finish that sentence or what he would do if Harry did leave.

Harry knew Zayn had no end, challenging him, “What? There are no negative consequences for me. What do you swear?”

It was too crowded with too much stuff going on. Red embers flew through the sky as the fire was being killed and all their neighbors stood on the street. Zayn knew it wasn’t likely, but he felt like a few were watching.

Still, his voice increased in volume as he stepped close to Harry, mad at his boyfriend's stupid, intentionally hurtful remarks. “You won’t be with me. That’s not a negative?”

The question coupled with the aggression in which it was asked flipped something in Harry. His emotions were going back and forth so quick, it had to have been tormenting.

“Of course it is. But it’s too hard.”

“No, it’s not.” Zayn grabbed him by the wrist this time, pulling him away from everyone, not stopping until the closest person was at least 10 feet away. “Let’s get a hotel. We can do this together.”

“I can’t.” Harry bit his lip and dipped his head, ashamed.

“Harry, babe. I won’t make you do it.” Zayn placed a hand on both sides of his boyfriend's neck and used his fingers to prop up his head, forcing eye contact. “I know you want to spend our lives together but I won’t make you do it. I won’t guilt trip you.” It hurt his entire heart to say, though he had to make sure Harry knew the truth of the situation. “It was the hardest thing for me to do and I was an angel. I can’t imagine what it would be like for a demon.”

“Dark, painful, and soul-crushing is what the family says.” Harry offered up, blinking rapidly as he recalled the words.

“I want to be with you but I won’t make you do it.” Zayn stated his sentiment one last time. He watched as Harry took it in, watched as the man he loved understood that he’d give him up if he _had_ to, but only then.

Not long went by before Harry was stumbling over his words, less calm and collected than the day they met all those years ago.

“Zayn, of course I’m going to choose you. You’re all that I want.” He grinned weakly over the words he often spoke, then cringed at a future pain he must be thinking of. “But please, just hold me accountable for the next five hours.”

Zayn nodded more ferociously than he even had before. “Five hours is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

“Five painful hours and we’ll be free.” Harry swallowed. Acceptance washed over his face, the freak out finally over. Then, in true Harry fashion, he lunged forward to plant a sloppy yet perfect kiss on Zayn’s lips. Pulling back, he threw his head in the direction of the smoldering flames. “So, hotel room, then?”

Harry’s recovery time was shocking. Just moments ago he was talking about leaving and never being able to be with Zayn again and now he had a light smile on his lips. Zayn didn’t really mind - figuring his mood swings would be over soon enough and as long as that grin was directed at him, he’d never be mad.

“One with thick walls.” Zayn thought out loud.

“Zayn Malik!” Harry’s eyes went wide with shock, slapping his chest playfully.

“I’m not fucking you.” Zayn rolled his eyes. The reason for his comment was for much more cautious reasons. “I’m just figuring it might be a little painful, might get you screaming. Don’t want to wake the whole floor.”

“No fucking?” Disappointment was clear across Harry’s brow.

“Well, maybe after.”

“Not one last time with me like this?” Harry smirked, surely imagining how much Zayn could sometimes beg for Harry and his rougher side.

“Alright.” Zayn bit his lip, blushing. “We better get going before they start asking about who started this.”

“I don’t think they’ll find me responsible of spontaneous combustion.”

“Oh, come on.” Zayn sighed, interlocking their fingers and leading Harry into town and to one of the few hotels that took walk-ins at 7pm.

Hours later, after spending one last time wrapped up in each other while only one of them was still immortal, Harry chose Zayn for good. Naked, sweating out of every pore, Harry looked at Zayn through a haze and had no regrets. It was a rough night - worse than when Zayn lost his angel wings by about 100%. Zayn stayed with him the whole time. Through the vomiting and anger, through the screaming and name calling, Zayn sat with him. And at sunrise, Zayn watched as the darkest of shadows rose from Harry’s back, vanishing into thin air before Harry had time to peel his eyes open.


End file.
